


Picking Up the Pieces

by SumthinClever



Series: Drarropoly 2020 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Forgiveness, Infidelity, Insecurity, M/M, Mistakes, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumthinClever/pseuds/SumthinClever
Summary: Harry and Draco have been fighting a lot lately. When their worst fight yet leads to Draco making a horrible mistake, it takes time and the willingness to be vulnerable to get Harry to forgive him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarropoly 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033458
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49
Collections: Drarropoly '20: Founders Edition





	Picking Up the Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 5th fic for the Drarropoly fest!  
> An ENORMOUS THANK YOU to my beta reader [MissusSBlack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissusSBlack) and alpha reader [Rei382](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rei382/pseuds/Rei382) for all their help with whipping this thing into shape! This fic looks a fair bit different than when I first wrote it. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

They’d been having such terrible rows lately. Screaming fit to burst. Their wild, uncontrollable magic  _ actually _ making things burst. Sometimes even a  _ Reparo _ couldn’t fix it. They were both so powerful. Too powerful, perhaps. And they’d been rivals long before they were friends, let alone anything more. They were bound to butt heads now and again.

It had been much more  _ again _ lately. Again and again and again. Arguing over the silliest things. Silly, inconsequential things that Harry couldn’t remember the half of after the fight ended.

He knew that work has been stressing each of them out. Long days, sometimes longer nights. Harry was a star Seeker for the Puddlemere United Quidditch team, and Draco a top Mediwizard who spent half his time at St. Mungo’s and the other half running around after the Montrose Magpies, treating their injuries as the Quidditch team’s medic.

As the Montrose Magpies were the Puddlemere’s rivals, that had caused some tetchiness on Harry’s part when Draco had taken the role. Draco had simply raised an eyebrow at him and reminded him of such things as  _ conflicts of interest _ . Harry had shrugged and agreed, but still been annoyed that Draco had gone to a team that outperformed Harry’s in the League. Draco smiled all smug at that. Well, he was  _ the best _ , after all. Why wouldn’t he go to the top team?

But the demands of their jobs kept them both busy—sometimes too busy for anything else, including each other. Harry often thought this wore harder on him than Draco. He recognized he had some childhood abandonment issues he was still working through. Even though he did consider the Weasleys his family, his time with the Dursleys, his loss of Sirius, and Ron’s own abandonment in second year and during the Horcrux hunt have kept a part of Harry on alert for the next time someone will leave him. 

Still, Harry could readily admit that Draco’s childhood wasn’t the best, either. Spoiled as he certainly was, Draco was constantly battling his father’s expectations, and subsequent disappointment when he failed to meet them. Moreover, having a megalomaniac squatting in your house and destroying any sense of power or privilege you thought you possessed was bound to leave a mark. If that wasn’t enough, Draco was assigned to kill one of the most powerful wizards alive, before his own magic had fully settled. All told, it was more than enough to do a number on the psyche. Draco had never gotten over his need to prove himself or seek validation.

He’d never had to prove anything to Harry. After the way they’d grown up, what other secrets could he have to hide that were worth the hiding? Harry already  _ knew _ Draco and accepted him as he was. He was a git, and Harry loved him. For it, despite it, Harry never could decide. They were just two true thoughts, and not mutually exclusive ones.

But when they started fighting and Draco got sick of Harry’s presence, despite a recurring fight about them  _ not being together _ , Draco would skip off and throw himself to the mercy of his Slytherin friends who relished in him trash talking Harry. Harry was cordial with the Slytherins now, just as Draco was cordial with Harry’s Gryffindor friends, but neither group passed up the chance to be snide about the other party.

Harry hated the Slytherins just a little bit more because it was obvious that Theodore Nott was harbouring a major crush on Draco. Harry had had his suspicions they had something going on while in school, but Draco always brushed it off whenever Harry asked him about it, and said that there was nothing going on back then, and certainly nothing going on now. Even if Theo  _ did _ fancy him, Draco reasoned, he was with Harry so nothing would come of it, anyway.

This had mollified Harry at the time. He’d felt like he won a game he hadn’t even known he was playing. That Draco had chosen him, of anyone else he could have been with. Draco was indulgent of Harry’s jealousy, liked that it made him feel like a prize. But Harry knew that Draco harboured a bit of his own smugness at catching Harry, was aware that Harry could have his pick of partners, as his still semi-constant stream of fan-mail assured him.

Draco was not shy about being affectionate with Harry, even in the presence of his fellow Slytherins. To Harry, it felt a bit like a claim. Draco laying his mark on Harry that all the Slytherins recognized. They may be nasty about Harry when Draco was annoyed with him, but when he wasn’t, Harry was untouchable. 

Harry didn’t mind. He liked being claimed and he had an equal stake on Draco. Harry could admit he was rather possessive, too. He suspected he was still getting used to having things of his own, people of his own, instead of having Dudley’s cast-offs or not being allowed to make friends. His rearing still showed itself in how he would sometimes gorge on food, as if he didn’t know when his next meal was coming. Or how he would either pinch Knuts or overspend, like the continuing availability of money to buy what he wanted or needed wasn’t assured. 

For Draco, it all meant that Harry was very open about their relationship. He never hid what they were from his friends or the public. If the press wanted to make a spectacle out of it all, well, Draco thrived on attention and Harry had long ago learned to ignore it. 

Harry kept this mutual possessiveness in mind when their worst fight yet almost resulted in thrown hexes and  _ did _ result in a lot of shouted words they didn’t mean. Or, at least, they wouldn’t mean them in the morning after they’d had time to calm down. Even so, they still sent Draco stomping off to his Slytherins to vent.

Harry felt justified in going to his own friends and complaining, where Hermione listened, gave him a raised eyebrow, and then began to enumerate the multiple ways in which  _ both _ Harry and Draco were ridiculous buggers who needed to get their heads out of their arses and stop acting like they didn’t love each other.

Thoroughly chastised, Harry went in search of Draco to apologise. Properly this time. And maybe they could talk like actual adults and resolve their problems, once and for all. Maybe. That was a tall order, but they could at least give it a go.

Except Harry couldn’t find Draco. He wasn’t at Zabini’s house. Zabini was out and his house elves had their master’s same disdainful attitude when Harry came calling. Draco wasn’t at Parkinson’s, either. She gave Harry a sneer worthy of Draco himself when she told him that Draco was not there, she didn’t know where he was, and she wouldn’t tell him even if she did know. She banished him from her Floo with a flick of her fingers like she was ridding herself of a fly.

Harry rolled his eyes at her, but continued his search. Draco wasn’t at Bulstrode’s, at Goyle’s, or at Greengrass’s. The last place Harry expected to find Draco, and therefore the last place he checked, was at Nott’s. And the last thing he expected to find Draco doing in the last place he expected to find him was kissing Theodore bloody Nott while Nott straddled Draco’s lap.

Harry felt his jaw drop. He supposed he was glad his entrance was silent. He wouldn’t have wanted to interrupt…whatever this was. One part of Harry was calm and rational, was wondering how long this had been going on; if this was why Draco had been fighting with him so much lately, if he was planning to leave Harry for Nott; if Draco ran into Nott’s arms every time they had a fight and he worked off the energy this way; if Draco even loved Harry at all anymore, if he ever did. Another part of Harry recognized that he was breaking down, mentally and emotionally, his heartbreak and his sense of betrayal and his dormant insecurities rearing their heads and making him have only the most tenuous hold on his magic.

Harry noticed things started rattling in Nott’s living room. Draco was oblivious, too caught up in snogging Nott to pay attention to anything around them, until a sofa pillow burst into a shower of fluff beside their heads. Draco jerked back from Nott, eyes shooting over his shoulder, and saw Harry’s head in the Floo. What little colour Draco possessed drained from his face when he laid eyes on Harry, and Harry just watched him back steadily. Harry met Draco’s eyes long enough to convey that he saw them, he knew what they were doing, and there was nothing Draco could say to excuse what he’d just done. Nott drew back when he noticed Draco wasn’t into it anymore, and turned around after seeing Draco’s expression. When Nott caught sight of Harry, his face went from confusion to smug in an instant. When his hand rose to drag and linger in Draco’s hair, a move Nott  _ knew _ Harry himself favoured, Harry’s magic burst out again and a lamp was the victim this time, scattering broken glass across the room. Draco jerked again from the flying shards and started to say Harry’s name, but Harry was already withdrawing his head from the fireplace.

Harry rose to his feet and shut the Floo down, locking it. If Draco wanted to get home, he’d have to find another way in. Harry’s nerves and magic were still too jittery, still too on edge. He was bound to destroy a lot more than sofa pillows or lamps in this state. He needed to either ground and calm himself, or release all his excess energy. And as much as Harry wanted to demolish everything in sight, particularly anything that belonged to Draco, he acknowledged that he’d be more likely to bring their entire house down right now.

Harry apparated to the field behind their house and paced around, ignoring the sparks of power that leapt off of him and dug divots into the grass around him.

So, this was probably the end of his relationship with Draco. Okay, okay. Harry had broken up with people before. His breakup with Ginny had  _ sucked _ , but he’d gotten through it, even though at one point he’d believed she was the love of his life and the woman he was meant to marry and have kids with. But to be fair, Harry hadn’t caught Ginny in the middle of snogging what was likely an ex-hookup partner that she’d assured Harry there was nothing going on with. 

Harry loved Draco leagues more than he’d loved Ginny, but it appeared the feeling wasn’t as mutual as Harry thought, despite the words exchanged. Harry felt his heart trying to break further, but he stubbornly refused to let it. This was inevitable. Just another person leaving him. 

Harry kept pacing, continuing his fatal thoughts about their ending and how they were going to split up the collective  _ things _ of a years’ long relationship, when Draco apparated onto the field beside him.

“Harry, I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he said. His voice was raw and anguished and his eyes wide and red, like he hadn’t realized what he was doing until after he’d been caught out, and suddenly had regrets. 

But he was also disheveled. Hair in disarray from Nott’s fingers, clothes rumpled from Nott sitting on his lap, and lips full and bruised from Nott’s kisses. All told, it was not a look that inspired Harry’s sympathies or forgiveness. 

Harry glared at him, eyes full of fury and hurt.

“Oh, YOU'RE  _ SORRY _ , ARE YOU?” he bellowed. “You didn’t look  _ sorry _ with Nott’s TONGUE DOWN YOUR THROAT! Or are you just  _ sorry _ you got caught?” 

“It wasn’t LIKE THAT,” Draco yelled back, then stopped, seeming to realize screaming back at Harry would not help his case.

Harry’s magic popped off him harder now, riled by Draco’s presence and whatever potential excuse was set to come out of Draco’ mouth. All Harry could see was Nott in Draco’s lap, his hands in Draco’s hair, his lips all over Draco’s face. A bolt of power struck right at Draco’s feet and split the ground in front of him. Draco jumped back, then glared up at him, as if Harry did it intentionally. Harry made no apology, and turned away to continue his pacing and attempting to work off his anger.

“How long, Draco?” Harry asked when he could get more words out.

“How long what?”

“How long have you been seeing Nott? How long has  _ this _ , whatever this is, been going on?”

“Harry, look, it was an accident," Draco started, but cut off when Harry shot him a withering look. He correctly deduced that the "Theo accidentally fell into my lap and onto my lips" angle was  _ not _ going to fly. "Okay, accident isn't the right word. But it wasn't  _ planned _ ." 

Harry snorted derisively, but Draco continued. 

“Harry, nothing is going on. I was mad about our fight and went to complain to my friends, same as always. Theo was the first one available and he listened to me bitch for a while and he reminded me of how much we’ve been fighting lately. I didn't mean for anything to happen. It just did and he was just…there,” Draco finished, rather weakly, Harry thought.

Harry’s temper exploded, power striking several places on the ground and making them smoke. "I was there!" The words burst out of him. He took a breath, trying to stop himself from breaking something more with his uncontrolled magic. “I was right there, Draco, and you ran to someone else. You ran to the one person I told you fancies you and you snogged him less than two hours after we fought. What else am I supposed to think? Why should I believe this was just a one off, that it hasn’t been building to this for ages? All the fights over stupid shite. Were you planning to leave me for him? Was this your way of telling me? Was I not-? Do you even-?”

Harry cut himself off as he realized his hurt was slowly taking dominance over his anger and his insecurities were trying to pour out. No. He would not cry in front of Draco when Draco was the one in the wrong here. He shook his head, as much to clear it from his thoughts as to hide his teary eyes from Draco until he could compose his face. “Nevermind. You wouldn’t get it,” he said. Harry flashed him one more wet glare and vanished from the spot before Draco could offer up another word.

***

Harry didn’t talk to him for weeks. Draco refused to be kicked out of their house, and Harry didn’t have the heart to change the wards, even if he could. But he wasn’t ready to give Draco any leeway, either, and instead gave him the cold shoulder whenever they were home together.

For better or worse, their jobs kept them just as busy as ever. The lack of time this created for the two of them to be together stopped being a point of contention for Harry. He needed the space. And Draco gave it to him. He’d tried to apologize a few more times in the first days after the kiss, but Harry wasn’t ready to hear it and Draco’s pride soon made him stop trying, eventually snapping at Harry that when he was ready to be  _ reasonable _ , Draco would be ready to talk to him. Harry stared at him with eyes that felt vacant and continued his silence. If Draco couldn’t see that  _ Harry _ was the wronged party and was justified in his anger and withdrawal, Harry couldn’t spell that out for him.

After the first week, Harry started feeling despair, wondering if this really was the end, if this wild, uncontrollable thing was another that  _ Reparo _ wouldn’t be able to fix for them. He started spending a significant amount of time at Ron and Hermione’s, just for the company. They felt righteous anger on Harry’s behalf and Ron’s maligning of Draco reached impressively new heights. 

After the second week of their mutual silent treatment, Draco caved and came to Ron and Hermione’s to try to solicit an audience with Harry, but Ron barred him entrance. He wasn’t a fan of Draco’s at the best of times, and these were far from time’s best. 

In a move that surprised everyone involved, Draco sacrificed his pride and sought Hermione, asking for her advice on how to get Harry to talk to him again. Hermione recounted the story to Harry and Ron with a voice full of wonder, marveling that Draco had actually listened to what she had to say.

“I told him that he needed to be vulnerable. I don’t know if he’ll manage it, but I think he’ll try,” she said.

Since talking hadn’t worked for them, Draco wrote instead. First short missives, and then long letters of apology. The first few Harry was tempted to burn without opening, but Hermione convinced him he would probably regret it. So instead, he saved them for when he was in a better frame of mind. Draco talking to Hermione had gone a ways towards moving him towards reconciliation.

By the middle of the fourth week, Harry had cooled significantly from raging to mostly hurt, and decided to read the letters. He would read Draco’s explanation, if nothing else. It was the same one he’d given Harry that day—that he was upset and Nott was available. But he went deeper this time, telling how Nott flattered him, which made Draco realize Harry didn't anymore, stroking his ego in ways he hadn’t realized Harry was failing to. He confirmed that work had indeed been stressing him, but how Nott, as a Healer, was able to relate in ways Harry couldn’t. How Nott just made him feel different-- _ not better _ , but different--than Harry did.  _ But none of that matters. I don’t  _ want _ him, Harry. I want you. I love _ you, he wrote.

By the sixth week, Harry returned letters of his own, detailing his hurt, and loneliness, and betrayal. His insecurities. But also his desire to mend the breach.

Draco told him how he was trying to follow Hermione’s advice by writing and exposing the emotions he usually tried to hide. He didn’t know if it was working or not. He told Harry how Zabini suggested he get Harry back by cooking for him.  _ “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, after all, old boy.” _ It made Harry laugh. Draco was a dreadful cook.

By the time two months had passed since the incident, Harry was back at home most of the time. He and Draco had learned to talk more, and more openly than they had before. It didn’t always work for Draco, so well used to hiding his feelings behind a mask and a sneer. Those had never impressed Harry in their youth and they didn’t fool him now. But since it wasn’t always easy, they continued the letters when they encountered times that speaking was not an option without threats of hexes being thrown or feelings being hurt. 

In the letters, they opened back up to each other in a way they hadn’t in months. In a way, the parchment acted as a barrier that they could face instead of each other. In another, the letters were a diary, a safe space to be vulnerable without threat of recrimination. 

Harry appreciated the duality—the Draco who still snarked and sneered and teased him, who put on a flawless confident and competent mask for the world, but who could be unguarded with Harry, if even in this detached way. A Draco who could trust him to keep his secrets, of which there were more than Harry had imagined. Draco was still a git, and Harry still loved him. For it, and despite it. Harry knew it was both, but which end weighed heaviest depended on whether they were fighting or not when Harry asked the question of himself. And over time, Harry fell even deeper in love with Draco, learned to let go of his pain from Draco’s moment of weakness and learned to forgive and trust him again, little by little.

Work was still demanding, but they’d learned to set aside time that they dedicated to each other, despite it. They still got annoyed with each other and still vented to their friends, but they learned to vent to each other, as well. To work out their issues in ways that they didn’t explode in their faces again, or cause anyone, including Nott, whom Draco spent significantly less time with nowadays, to feel that there was a way to break them apart. 

Draco’s friends still didn’t particularly like Harry, Nott especially. Ron was even colder to Draco than before. Hermione, however, was noticeably warmer following Draco seeking her counsel. His actions showed her, at least, that he regretted his mistake, and wanted to make everything right again with Harry. Harry’s happiness was what mattered in the end, after all.

And Harry was happy. He had his snarky, git-ty partner, a great circle of friends, and an experience he and Draco had learned from and grown closer because of. Overall, it was a worthy sacrifice. 


End file.
